


Something That Can't Be Fixed

by outdatedgoldfish



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:45:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outdatedgoldfish/pseuds/outdatedgoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike comes into the office four hours late.  His hair is uncombed, suit is unwashed, but that doesn't matter anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something That Can't Be Fixed

**Author's Note:**

> This story was created for the sole purpose of breaking Mike and Harvey to the point where they are crying because I enjoy reading about that for some reason lol
> 
> Written without specific time frame in mind, but probably towards the end of season four. Conveniently avoids any mention of Rachel and Mike's relationship because I wanted to keep the story as uncomplicated as possible. Warning for implied future character death, predictable writing, and lack of plot.

It's eleven o'clock when he walks into Harvey’s office, ignoring the buzz of the surrounding offices and Donna’s annoyed protest.  Harvey looks up from his work and narrows his eyes.  Mike knows he's a mess, with uncombed hair and bags under his eyes and suit wrinkled from restless sleep.    
  
“Where the hell have you been?" Harvey asks angrily, barely sparing Mike a glance before looking back down at his laptop.  "And why do you think you can walk in here four hours late looking like that?”

When Mike stays silent, struggling to form words, Harvey turns his attention from his work to take a good look at Mike for the first time.  As soon as he does, he puts his pen down and stands up, a concerned expression immediately replacing the angry one.  Mike suddenly thinks of how removed and aloof Harvey was on Mike's very first day at Pearson Hardman.  The openly caring and concerned Harvey standing in Pearson Specter now is almost a completely different person; he is a mentor, brother, and at the very top of the very short list of people Mike loves. 

Mike shakes his head a little to collect his thoughts, then launches into the speech he had rehearsed repeatedly on his way in. “I— I haven’t been feeling great lately,” he says.  "You know, the headaches I told you about and stuff."  

Unbeknownst to Harvey, 'stuff' was actually nausea, dizziness, and the terrifying experience of forgetting things for the first time in his life. 

"So, uh, I went to see a doctor a week ago and they did some tests… and… I’m dying, Harvey.”    
  
Cliche, tacky, and insensitive was _not_ the way Mike had rehearsed in the cab.  He actually cringes as the words come out of his mouth.  And then re-cringes when Harvey freeze.  Denial, fear, denial, anger, _denial_ flits across his features clearer than if they were written on his face in boldface type.    
  
“What?” Harvey finally speaks.  His voice is tight and tense, like a rubber band stretched all too far.    
  
“I have a tumour and they said I have about half a year.” Mike looks away to stare at the city through Harvey's wide windows.  He chews furiously on the inside of his bottom lip in attempt to control his breathing, the weakness in his limbs, and the heat of tears building up behind his eyes.  His attempt to elaborate on the specifics of the tumour are lost to a strangled whisper: "Harvey...”    
  
It may be the unfallen tears, it may be the name, it may be something in his eyes that Mike can’t see himself, but all of a sudden, Harvey slips so wildly out of character that Mike is almost alarmed.   He looks panicked and completely unguarded as he stalks over to Mike, hands flailing a little as he speaks. 

“I can fix this,” he says forcefully.  “Who’s your doctor?  They screwed up.  We’re going to make them redo the test and you’re staying with me until we get you sorted out.  I'll pay for whatever we need to do.  You’re _fine_.  I'll straighten this out.”    
  
Mike wants so badly to believe him, to believe that Harvey can just waltz into the doctor’s office and hand them some kind of file, some sort of paper, that makes them give Mike’s life back.  Because that’s what Harvey does, he solves Mike’s problems.  Every since they met: nursing home fees, Trevor, Louis, drugs, Grammy, Trevor again, Louis again.  Each and every time, Harvey was there to make things better.  But… this isn’t something Harvey can fix.    
  
“Nobody screwed up, Harvey.  I’m dy—“ Mike chokes on the lump in his throat, and no matter how much he swallows, he can’t get his lips to form the words again.     
  
That’s when Mike finds Harvey’s arms wrapped around him in an urgent embrace that presses Mike’s face into the crook of Harvey’s neck.  Harvey, warm and solid and real around him, is what makes the tears spill down his cheeks.    
  
“This isn’t right.”  Harvey presses his hands against Mike’s shoulder blades with a bruising pressure.  “I’m going to fix this.”    
  
And Mike cries harder because they both know Harvey can’t fix everything. 

He can’t fix this. 


End file.
